


New Spice

by VonPelt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Disconnect from Heritage, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oil, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VonPelt/pseuds/VonPelt
Summary: A balcony under the stars, a marble balustrade in front of a magical forest, the moon shining brightly - Harry realised that it sounded straight from a fairytale. At least, there were no carriages which would turn into a pumpkin at midnight.
Relationships: Padma Patil & Parvati Patil, Padma Patil/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	New Spice

Harry stood at the edge of the balcony, leaning on the marble balustrade as he sipped the champagne he had nicked from the Minister. It was the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort, so the Ministry has gone all out and invited anyone even remotely related to the battle and many more who were not. As expected, that was not the recipe for an enjoyable evening, especially compared to the get-togethers Hannah usually organised for Dumbledore's army. Because really, even the forest in front of him was more interesting than mingling with the kind of bootlickers these events attracted.

Harry's idle thoughts were disrupted by the clatter of the ice bucket as someone fished out the bottle he had liberated. There was a bit of glassy clatter and the sparkling sound of the champagne.

"1866? Which manor did you rob to get your hands on this?"

The voice was familiar, friendly even, feminine with a slight rasp, but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on its owner.

"I robbed no one. However, I might have heard a rumour from an estranged, vindictive sister, a whisper in the night really. But as a concerned citizen, I passed it on to the Minister just before their second raid on Malfoy Manor," he said and looked left where he came face to face with someone he had not talked to in years. Padma Patil had changed during that time, her hip-long hair now only reached her shoulders, but even in the dim moonlight he still immediately recognised her. Unlike her sister, she still had the last bit of baby fat which refused to leave her face and her jewellery was less opulent, subtle and silver rather than sturdy gold.

And yet, she made him feel underdressed for the first time that evening because of her simple elegance. Unlike the rich robes which made most attendants look straight out of a costume drama, Padma wore a short black dress. It wasn't the most revealing outfit, but perhaps that was part of its charm. Its many horizontal slits showed a lot of skin on her back and sides, but only teased what was really interesting.

"You know, I can't say that it tastes better than a bottle for a tenner."

"But you are overlooking something. This bottle is a sign of triumph, much more than the pomp in there," Harry replied and snatched the bottle back from her to refill his own flute. "While we get to enjoy this mediocre champagne, its previous owners are enjoying the tender mercies of the dementors of Azkaban. And well deserved, if you ask me!"

"That's one way of looking at it," Padma laughed.

"Andromeda has been rubbing off on me."

"Oh, so that's what your mystery girlfriend is called."

"Andromeda isn't my girlfriend, she is - Do you remember Professor Lupin?"

"The werewolf?" Padma asked slowly, trying to follow the seemingly random change of topic.

"Yes. Near the end of the war, he made me his son's godfather - "

"Oh, you were close?"

"Not really. He was good friends with my father and my godfather, but I didn't even know he existed until he came to teach at Hogwarts. He gave me extra lessons for the Patronus charm, but that's really it. When he asked me to be the godfather, I said yes, but I honestly didn't even expect to survive the war. But as it came, both Professor Lupin and his wife died while I'm still here. The wife's mother, Andromeda Tonks, took the child in. And I - well, I try to be an uncle for Teddy," Harry explained, his eyes locked onto a particularly thick tree.

"An uncle?"

"I wasn't even 18 when I had to fulfil my promise. I tried my best, but I had no idea what to do with a baby. I always thought - dreamt - about a big family. But after my experiences with Teddy, I realised that I wasn't ready yet. And that maybe one or two children would be enough. I still don't feel ready - "

"That's comforting, I thought that I was the only one. I was kinda shocked by the twelve weddings I was invited to before our eighth year was over. And especially the eight pregnancies."

"At least you only got invited by your friends. For a few years, it was the craze to invite _THE_ Harry Potter to everything, from weddings and birthdays to funerals of people I have never heard of."

"I wonder how those people would have reacted if you actually showed up only to sulk on the balcony."

"I'm not sulking, I was trying to find out where the Illusion ends."

"Illusion?"

"We are a hundred feet below London, and yet there's the moon. Vega with the rest of Lyra, then Altair and Deneb for the summer triangle. But it's not the stars, I remember the enchanted ceiling well enough. What's throwing me off is that there's a whole forest in front of us."

"A forest to make the backyard of their barely-used ballroom look nice would definitely fit the Ministry as I know it."

"I don't doubt that they would do it, I wonder if they actually could. Because Professor Sprout's lectures about magic being no substitute for the sun and moon are one of the few things I actually remember from that class."

"Right, that would be an issue. The forest looks ancient, so you would need - a lot of potions, probably close to the yearly supply. And for horticulture spells, you would need an army of foresters."

"Which is why I think it's just an illusion."

"It looks like Białowieska - Europe's last primaeval forest," Padma added when she noticed Harry's blank look. "Ancient oaks, a lot of overgrown, dead wood, moss everywhere, the blue glow of dawn roots. It would be gorgeous if it was real."

"It still looks gorgeous."

"Yes, but I've been to the real one and it was magical. There were fairies dancing around a spring, singing in that melodic tongue of theirs, there was an earthy smell, like the countryside after a rain shower but much more intense - "

"That sounds lovely," Harry admitted and smiled at Padma's enthusiasm for the forest. "Was that a holiday?"

"No, work actually. They were harvesting fern flowers deep in the forest and I was there to ensure that they didn't cut the blossoms with something else, that none of the spirits guarding the flowers cursed them and that the harvest was by hand."

"No magic on magical ingredients. Hah, I even remember something from Slughorn."

"Five points to Gryffindor."

"Only five?"

"You just recited one rule, that's definitely not worth ten."

"Hmm, looks like I'll need to remember a second one."

"Be careful not to strain anything."

"Hey!" Harry's head snapped away from his distant stare into the forest to fix a glare on Padma. "Come on, I wasn't that bad in Slughorn's class. Speaking of whom, is he still in there surrounded by his club?"

"I think so, although Gwenog Jones was definitely the one who held everyone's attention on the dance floor."

"And she is here thanks to Slughorn. I think he's enjoying this too much. He and everyone else in there."

"If it is any help, you aren't the only one who doesn't like this," Padma pointed out after a moment where they both just stood there and watched the forest.

"It's a memorial - "

"Yes, but those from the old families are perfectly happy to dance and mingle in there. Neville and Susan for example have been practically raised for this. And Hermione is using this to make business deals for her bookshop."

"I guess there are some things you can rely on," Harry chuckled. His friend was nothing but practical after all, and if Kingsley wanted her there he'd have to put up with her spending most of the evening talking to publishers. "Likewise, Ron will get drunk and pick up some fangirl. It will be all over the papers and maybe I won't be the one the mob is after for a few days."

"I would have never guessed from what I've seen of him during the Yule Ball."

"He always wanted to become famous, and now he's making the best out of it."

"Still, if anyone, I would have expected that you would be the one who snapped and became a full-blooded hedonist."

"Really, me?"

"I thought that with your burden gone, you would make up for what you couldn't do before."

"I never felt the need to sow my wild oats, and quite a few dates I went on wouldn't accept Teddy, or thought that he was actually mine."

"Wait, there are people who genuinely think that you cuckolded your old teacher?"

"That's actually one of the more popular conspiracy theories people make up about me."

"People make up conspiracy theories about you?"

"Welcome to my crazy life. Did you know that apparently, I'm the secret son of almost every pureblood family which has lived here for the past two centuries, and heir to the Wizengamot and the Kingdom of Avalon?"

"Hmm, you don't seem the kingly type. A viscount maybe, or a baron."

"I'm not regal enough?"

"It's the glasses, you know."

"I switched to contacts years ago."

"But I remember the glasses being rounder than your face when we started Hogwarts."

"There's no winning with you, is there?"

They stood side by side and watched the magical forest for a while, neither saying a word. Harry could feel the warmth of her bare arm though his dress robe, something he had never really thought about but now found awfully distracting.

"You know, I used to have a crush on you back at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Harry asked, taken aback by her sudden admission.

"It was a silly thing really, but you were an enigma. I think it started when Parvati wouldn't stop complaining about your date during the Easter break that year. You were better to her than Ron to me, but not by much, but I didn't really care. However, I kept an eye on you after that, to see if you had been deliberately mean to my sister or just clueless. And you turned out to be an enigma."

"I'm glad that I could provide some entertainment for you. Although I would like to know what made me so fascinating."

"You were never happy - at least not in a relationship. The only times I've seen you truly happy was when you were playing Quidditch."

"Ginny made me happy. But everything else around us - her brother was dead, her mother became even more overbearing due to that, the fights Ron and Hermione got into, the shadow of the war, Kingsley dragging me through all of this - " Harry gestured at the ballroom behind them.

"I didn't know that. I just saw you being - "

"Moping?"

"No, melancholic," Padma chuckled. "And I wanted to be the one who made you smile. I wanted to succeed where everyone else had failed. It was stupid, but - "

"Well, you just managed to do that."

"You look much better when you smile, you know?"

"Noted," Harry deadpanned and laughed when she almost choked on her champagne. "As do you, you know?"

"So you think I look good?"

"No, I merely said that you look better - "

"Oi, that's not how you are supposed to treat a lady!"

"I don't see a lady out - here - " Harry wheezed the last word when an elbow connected with his ribs. Padma looked at him with faux outrage, but mirth twinkled in her eyes and her cheeks were tinted a pretty shade of pink. "So what has my fair lady been up to after Hogwarts? Other than travelling through magical forests."

"I've been all over the place. No, literally, I'm working for the Green Brewery in procurement. So whenever you buy a potion, there's a good chance that I was involved in buying the ingredients."

"Really?"

"Well, as long as the ingredients are more complex than Islay dew. For a lot of the high-volume stuff we have standing contracts and Michael deals with those. But a lot of the ingredients are only available at certain times because they need to be harvested during the full or new moon, or only grow or bloom during certain months."

"So you go to these places and buy the ingredients?"

"Yes, although it's not so much haggling about the prices as it's about ensuring that what they are selling is actually what we pay for. Snape never really touched on this, but the choice of blade and direction of cutting is really important, not just for making the potion but also for harvesting the ingredients."

"He was a good spy, even if he had no business being around children," Harry begrudgingly conceded.

"But there was so much he never even mentioned. At the same time, I think that's what woke my interest in the subject."

"Snape being a shitty teacher inspired you?"

"No, but it made me read up on a lot of theory. I wanted to know why potions worked, so I picked up a book from the library and started reading. And after that, I picked another one to look up a concept the first book had mentioned."

"What was the most memorable trip you had so far?"

"I think that has to be the Ore Mountains. There was a harvest of Mugworts, and I had to make sure that everything was up to standard. What the supplier failed to mention is that they were harvesting those mushrooms during the full moon, while there were werewolves nearby. The workers were apparently used to it, but to me, the prospect of wild werewolves was frightening. They gave me a silver knife which was supposed to keep them at bay, but it was still nerve-wracking. I never saw one of them, but I could hear them howling and running through the undergrowth."

"You didn't miss anything, they are quite hideous. Not quite as awful as the dark magic Greyback and his pack used during the Battle, but - "

"Where did you - ah, Professor Lupin, right?"

"Yes, although I still blame Snape for the entire situation."

"And I'm sure that he would have found a way to blame you."

"He would have found a way to blame me for everything. _Potter, it is raining today. Twenty points from Gryffindor! Weasley, your hair is red, another twenty!_ "

Padma laughed at his impersonation of their former teacher and leaned her head against his shoulder, still giggling. Harry turned to look at her and found himself looking into warm, brown eyes, her face just inches from his own, her hair tickling his neck. The moment felt significant, as if it was an important turning point. For a split-second, Harry hesitated as he became aware of how close they were to each other. He could catch a faint trace of her perfume, something fruity, as his throat felt dry. It was do-or-die.

Padma's eyes went wide, dashing left and right, seemingly feeling the same weight of the moment. It passed as quickly as it had begun and they both moved towards another. A detached, cynical part of Harry's mind pointed out that the moonlit balcony was a bit cliché when it came to kisses, as was this whole memorial gala held in a Ministry ballroom. But as soon as her lips touched his, all higher thoughts were gone.

Harry's head was spinning, and definitely not from the champagne. She pulled herself flush against and he ran a hand down Padma's side, allured by the change of smooth fabric and hot skin.

"My house isn't far from here," Padma whispered and while it was a moot point with magic, the unspoken implication still sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

* * *

"I'll side-along you, close your eyes."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat at that, the anticipation making him tense. Still, he followed her request and soon felt soft lips on his, her tongue teasing him. Through closed eyes, he saw the flashes of cameras, but as Padma did her best to pull him flush against her, he didn't care in the slightest. Just as she squeezed his ass, they were pulled through a tube and reappeared in a dim hallway.

Before Harry could get his bearings straight, she was upon him, pushing him against a wall while he wiggled a hand under her dress through one of its slits. It wasn't the best angle, but it led him to the delightful discovery of the thong she was wearing, and how little skin that covered. Panting, Padma disentangled herself from his grip and took a step towards the nearest door.

"You know, I could use a shower after that being stuck in that stuffy room. Why don't you join me?"

Harry was quite sure that this was just a pretence, the sultry smile across her shoulder too enticing to be coincidental. And yet, this was not a suggestion he would turn down. Not in a million years.

Padma had disappeared around the corner, which gave her a headstart when it came to undressing. Harry barely registered that the bathroom was much more modern than the rest of the apartment. The spacious shower made out of large glass plains managed to distract him only for a second before his eyes snapped to the figure who had led him here.

Padma's dress had looked good, but what was underneath was even better. Her legs were firm, but above her thighs, her lines were softer, more supple. She was out of her dress, but the thong which had taunted him before was still there, as was a matching one-strap bra. Padma was looking over her shoulder again and as soon as she was certain she had his attention, she gave him an impish smile and bent forwards to take off her socks. This gave Harry a spectacular sight, a flimsy black strip the only thing preserving the last bit of her modesty. Not that she seemed to be concerned about it in the first place.

"I think that for this shower you need to shed a few clothes - slowly! Take your time, give me show," Padma ordered playfully and sat down on the rim of her bathtub, already undressing him with her eyes. Harry blinked at her dumbfounded before he followed the request. This was the first time he was putting on _a show_ for someone, and he felt ridiculous while doing so. Not that he really knew what he was supposed to do, so he simply kept undressing at a truly glacial pace and occasionally twisted a bit or flexed some muscle. Truly, if not for Padma's appreciative look and the desire in her eyes, he would have stopped long ago.

By the time he was down to his boxers, she slipped off the bathtub and pulled him into a searing kiss. Finally, he could feel her skin-on-skin, with no barrier between them. Padma was surprisingly warm and delightfully soft. It did not take long for his hands to wander and find the catch of her bra. In response to this, she merely deepened their kiss and he could taste a hint of champagne on her tongue.

The lacy bit came off after a moment of fumbling and Harry could not stop himself from staring at her almost black nipples, nor from moving his fingers to palm what he had just unwrapped. Padma's breasts were not enormous, but definitely the largest he had ever gotten to touch. They were a delightful weight in his hands and she gave him time to get familiar with them. Before long, she pressed his head between her neck and wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him as close as possible. Padma felt hot against his skin, and yet it was a warmth he could not get enough of, a warmth he wanted - needed to feel everywhere. While Harry began to map every square inch of her with his lips, she ran one hand through his messy hair while the other dipped lower, running across the last bit of fabric left on him. She always stopped just short of where he wanted her before retreating away from the boxers. This repeated again and again, always teasing, always denying him the touch he craved.

His patience was about to run out when Padma pulled away and twisted out of his reach. She kicked off her thong, stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

For a few seconds, Harry stood there, transfixed, watching the silver sheen of the water contrasting her dark skin, before he joined her under the spray. It had been too long since the last time, so with burning need, he pressed her against the tiles and tried to find the friction they both carved. Padma reached to her left, squeezed a dollop of vanilla-scented soap on her hand and began to spread it over his back. Harry moaned into her mouth and tried to push her back against the wall. But because she was wet, his hands slid down her sides and Padma laughed at his expression.

"Patience."

"You are an evil witch!"

"Then it's a good thing that you have experience with giving the dark forces a good licking," she replied, her breathy tone making his heart skip a beat. She turned around and handed Harry the soap. He took the opportunity and began to rub the lather all over her skin, making sure to leave no spot out while their tongue danced and her hands continued to tease him.

Harry growled and tried to grind against her, but Padma sidestepped his efforts. Laughing again, she pressed a kiss on his lips before she hopped out of the shower, leaving him alone under the water while she slowly crossed the bathroom, making sure to sway her hips as much as possible. Harry stood still for a second until his brain caught up with reality and he followed her.

Padma handed him a fluffy white towel which magically had the perfect, cozy temperature and he began to gently rub her dry. At that moment, he strongly resented the fabric between his hands and her skin, but her pants and approving little moans made up for that. When he was done, she did the same to him before tying her hair into a ponytail. Harry ran his hands over her ass and dug into the supple flesh, soft and firm at the same time. He left goosebumps in his trail, which were a delightful texture as she pressed back against him.

"You know, you make this whole patience thing really difficult."

"Good, I want you shivering with anticipation before we are done."

The playful note in her voice made Harry gulp as his mind provided various possibilities as to how this might play out, each more enticing as the one before.

As gems upon a silver thread, Harry watched water drip from Padma's hair and run down her chest. Their wakes glittered in the cold light, leaving him with a need to trace each and every one with his fingers, with his lips. At that moment, he knew that the wrong sister had been named after a goddess because there was no way she could look any better. Padma might not be as slender as a model, but to Harry, she was perfection, perfection of which he could not get enough of. The air, already heavy with anticipation, grew heavy with their arousal. Like predators eyeing their prey, they stared at each other before she grabbed his hand and unceremoniously pulled him out of the bathroom, through the hallway and into her bedroom.

They ended up on her bed and without a single piece of cloth between them, their touches and kisses quickly became frantic. After a few minutes, Padma pulled back and placed a hand against his chest. Panting heavily, it took Harry a moment to get his bearings straight while she started to cast spells. Candles were lit, but before he could see more, her lips were back on his.

"Turn around, lay on your stomach."

Harry had no idea where this was going, but the thought that Padma had something more elaborate planned sent shivers down his spine. There was a bit of rummaging as he followed her request, facing the headboard. For a brief moment, the craved animal, tigers, elephants and blackbucks, distracted him until his attention was brought back to what he could not see.

A warm liquid dropped on Harry's back, and only when Padma's hands began to spread it, he got an idea what it was. She began to knead his muscles as the scent of oranges spread through the bedroom.

"Is that oil?"

"Mmmhhh."

"Do you keep that in your nightstand?"

"It's good for my skin."

"Your skin - you definitely look spectacular. And you are as soft as that towel."

"Of course, the skincare is just a bonus. I like to spoil myself occasionally. Take my time, tease myself, relish the anticipation until I can't take it anymore - You are thinking about it, aren't you? Trying to picture what I do to myself - "

It wasn't a massage, nor was there any method to what Padma was doing. It was merely her turn to explore every inch of him, rubbing herself against him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear with that raspy voice of hers. Throwing off the Imperius was easier than withstanding the urge to just flip around and ravish her.

Harry was unable to see anything but the headboard and wall, but he felt every featherlight touch. And he would never have guessed how sensitive his back would be, but now it was unbearable. He could feel Padma's nipples gliding over his back, her finger dancing over tendons and muscles, feel her breath against his ear as she ground against his hamstrings. He needed release almost as much as he needed air, as he needed to feel her lips on his again. And at least one of those desires would be granted as she rolled him over.

But before Harry could look at her again, Padma pulled him into another searing kiss. However, while this impeded his ability to see her, it left his hands free to explore the new, oily texture of her skin. Eventually, they had to break apart, which gave him the view he had been yearning for.

The candlelight flickered across Padma's skin which shone golden from the amber oil. It was by far the most stunning sight he had ever seen and having straddled him, she seemed to bask in his hunger. The specks of fire reflected in her warm eyes, giving her an almost otherworldly aura while the scent of oranges mixed with the candles and the soap they both had used, creating a composition which would forever burn itself into Harry's memory.

Padma reached for her wand and cast a spell he didn't recognise. He waited for something, anything to happen, but other than her wide, wicked smile, there was nothing. No fireworks or silk ropes, not even a dollop of oil. However, it must have done something because she was far too satisfied with herself at whatever the spell had done.

Only after she had pushed him backwards onto the pillow and Harry looked past her hair, he noticed the magic she had worked. Where wooden panels had previously hidden the barren ceiling, he was now looking at a reflection of himself. A magnified reflection. And more importantly, a reflection of Padma which didn't look more than two foot away despite the high ceiling of the room. His eyes darted back and forth between the smug woman on top of him and the reflection of her backside, the shadows of the candles dancing across both until his mouth dropped open.

"Yeah, I knew you would like this."

"Fuck, are you trying to kill me here?"

"Oh, I hope that we will both die more than one little death."

* * *

Harry woke up after the best night of sleep he had in a long time. He was sore, slick, sticky, in a bed he didn't recognise and for some reason, everything smelled of oranges - At that moment, his memories came back. Unlike her previous insistences, Padma had not taken her time, at least not the first time. The second time however - the third - sweet Merlin, that might explain why he felt more worn out than after the Battle of Hogwarts and yet had never felt better.

His attention was drawn to a heavenly smell, sausages, tomatoes and beans, but also something else, something he did not recognise.

Harry looked around for his clothes until he remembered that they had never reached the bedroom. Instead, he found a neatly-folded white bathrobe Padma had laid next to him. On slippery feet, he waddled into the bathroom, and now that he had the time to take it in, it looked almost futuristic. A few minutes later, still naked under the bathrobe but at least with his wand tucked into one of the fluffy pockets, Harry was back in the hallway just to see Padma poke her head around the corner.

"Breakfast is ready."

As it turned out, she had prepared a close to full breakfast, but some dishes looked different to what he was used to. The sauce of the beans was orange with herbs in it rather than red, the sausages were smoked, the potato cakes next to something which reminded him of soy sauce. And despite their passionate night, the conversation remained light, which is how Harry found himself asking a rather trivial question.

"What's with the bathroom?"

"I saw one like this in a hotel in Rome and knew I needed it in my flat. So I had it built in here. It definitely wasn't the cheapest option, but I think you will agree that it is money well spent."

"Definitely. And I really like your decorations."

"Most of it are knick-knacks I got from grandpa, stuff he collected during his time in Asia," Padma said and followed Harry's eyes to a curved blade on the wall. "That's a kukri. Grandpa said that it saved his life more than once. It was my grandfather's - grandfather by blood. Long story."

"I have time if you don't mind telling me," Harry said. Padma looked at him for a moment and nodded.

"They fought in the 10th Gurkha rifles, in Burma. Grandpa was one of the British officers in that unit, and they became friends. Grandfather fell near Bishenpur during the Battle of Imphal, and his dying wish was that someone would look after the children he had left behind with his little brother. I don't know what kind of favour grandpa called in, but he got permission to leave the unit after the Japanese advance was broken and went to the village where grandfather was from. He found Dad and Aunt Iniya, who were in the care of their sixteen-year-old uncle."

Padma paused for a second and sipped her tea.

"Grandpa offered to take the two children and grand uncle Tej was glad to be relieved of the responsibility since he was overwhelmed by the two young children. Grandpa once said that maybe if Tej had been a few years older, with a wife and children of his own, he would have just made sure that dad and auntie were taken care of, but as it was he took them to Calcutta, where his own wife and children lived. He then returned to his unit before they took Rangoon. Grandpa took his family back to England in 48 and started noticing weird stuff around the time Iniya turned 8. When she got her Hogwarts letter three years later, many things suddenly made sense. Dad got his letter two years after that."

"Your grandpa sounds like quite the character," Harry said with a small smile as Padma's admiration of the man was plain to see. And she had looked adorable as she told the story often using her hands when she thought about which words to use.

"He definitely was. Grandpa loved to tell stories, about his travels, about India and Nepal, Singapore and Hong Kong. After the war, he told me his own war stories. And - how to put this - as famous as Neville got with the sword of Gryffindor, that Kukri has seen more blood, at least in the past century."

"Does a sixty-foot Basilisk change the score?"

"Oh right - sorry. It's just that everyone now associates Neville with the sword - "

"Good. I don't need any more attention than I already get."

"Is this why you work at Quality Quidditch Supplies?"

"Pretty much. I always loved flying, and if I'm famous due to that it feels - earned. Because I definitely didn't stop Voldemort in 81, and the second war was - a fluke - a stupid plan which should not have worked, nothing more," Harry admitted, looking down into his cup. So he was surprised when he felt a warm hand reaching for his own. And against his expectations, Padma did not press further but merely held his gaze.

"So why didn't you go pro?"

"I'm not going to lie, I was tempted. But then I saw how many hoops they made Ginny jump through and just like that the dream was gone. Selling brooms and giving the occasional course on the other hand - that's fun. I don't have to bother with drills from dawn till dusk or international schedules tighter than a miser's purse. And it feels nice to have no responsibility for once. No world to save, no team to carry, just showing up for a few hours and advising people on what gear they need for what they have in mind. Well, and writing the occasional broom review for Luna."

"If anyone had earned to pass along their responsibilities, it has to be you."

"How did you end up working in procurement? Because it sounds quite - _exciting_."

"Like I said yesterday, I read a lot about Potions, so once we got a good teacher, I ended up spending a lot of time with Professor Slughorn. During one of the Slug club meetings, I asked him what kind of jobs were available, and he pointed me towards a few of his acquaintances."

"Isn't it annoying that you have to do all those trips at ungodly hours?"

"Honesty, I like that part. It made sure that I was away a lot so that Mum couldn't come up with some plot to get me hitched."

"And your sister?"

"Parvati took after mum, I after dad and grandpa. She - she picked up a lot of traditions from mum, I didn't. I always felt out of place when meeting mum's side of the family, and they never approved of me because I was too British, too willful. I eat beef, I dress British and I'm on the agnostic side of Anglican while they - let's just say they were ecstatic that my sister is named after a Hindu goddess. And it goes on like this for everything, so I guess it's not unexpected - " Padma trailed off and gestured at nothing in particular. "It always was too much - too forced for me. I felt more welcome by grandfather's distant relatives, few of whom even remember him. But one short explanation and I was invited to stay, for a meal and the night. I never had to earn my place there, if that makes sense."

"I never knew."

"I didn't understand it until I turned 20. But looking back - Dad and grandpa were British, maybe with a dash Nepali from what grandpa had picked up from the Gurkhas and passed on to dad. Mum on the other hand was very - serious about her heritage. So I started to associate her with chores, annoyances really - forcing me to wear clothes I didn't like just because they were traditional. She forbade me to eat beef while grandpa - to be honest he spoilt me. Of course, it didn't help that we took the Floo when we visited mum's family for the first time. And I hate Floo travel."

"I'm glad that I'm not the only one. Everyone tells me that it's easy - "

"But they don't get that it's about the horrible sensation rather than the difficulty. But I don't think you understand the extent of my misery. There is no international Floo network, at most there is a connection to a neighbouring network. We had to Floo to Norway, then from their ministry to the Finnish one, from there to Russia, to Persia and then across a dozen states on the Indian peninsula. I threw up three times and - I threw a tantrum that I wanted to go home, which wasn't a great first impression to make."

"How old were you?"

"Nine. But honestly, I don't think that I would react very differently. Well, maybe a bit less screaming and a bit more booking business class to Heathrow for the return trip."

"You just made sure that I will never travel abroad by Floo."

"Good! Whoever invented that hellish contraption does not deserve you using it! In fact, they belong in the deepest pit of hell, together with their creation."

"And Parvati?" Harry asked. He never had imagined how complex one's relationship with their parents could be, but it made sense that there was something between Andromeda and the Weasleys on one side and how Sirius had been treated.

"As I said, she always felt closer to mum's side, but she is also better at just enduring the preaching about finding a proper husband, starting a family and so on. Gryffindor brashness might be a stereotype, but she is way more patient than me," Padma laughed. "Dean is probably not what my family had in mind, but as an Auror he makes good money, so they don't mind him as much. But Parvati took after Mum and her side of the family. Dad was always on the fence. I think he missed the home he never knew. That's why he spent two years on the subcontinent, looking for the missing piece so to say. He found Mum instead, which I'm really glad about, you know?"

"I can imagine."

"Don't get me wrong, I love the woman, but sometimes I wish that she would be less fanatic about her heritage - or remember that I'm more than just Indian."

As Harry finished up the last of his breakfast, Padma levitated his plate and cup over to the sink.

"Do you want to take a shower?" she asked, looking up at the clock on her wall.

"Should I get going?"

"No, nothing like that. But speaking of the devil, I'm meeting Parvati in an hour, and I have to get ready for that. I didn't expect that I would be taking anyone home from the gala, or I would have scheduled differently," Padma said, her eyes seeking out Harry's. "Because I definitely don't want to deprive myself of your company."

"So it's my company you are after? Will you join me in the shower then?"

"As good as that sounds, we both know how that would end and I'm on a schedule."

"We could be quick."

"An enticing idea, but I think you just want to ogle me again. And then drag me back to my bedroom," Padma chuckled, but her voice was deeper, breathy.

"Can you blame me? Your bed was really comfortable."

"What - that's not what I meant!"

"Oh, you meant your body?" Harry asked with faux-surprise, barely able to stop himself from laughing while Padma rolled her eyes. "I think I showed you just how attractive I found you. But I could always remind you again."

"You really have a one-track mind.

"Can you blame me?"

"After last night? No. I am very tempted to cancel with my sister and make you go through with your suggestion. But we had this standing coffee date ever since we moved out from home and Parvati didn't even reschedule the day after she got engaged. I owe it to her to show up. But - " Padma paused for dramatic effect. "I would like to take you up on that shower. When are you free?"

"I work Monday to Friday till 2, sometimes three."

"I will probably be gone from late Monday to Tuesday afternoon, so how about Wednesday at 5, my place?"

"It's a date."

"You can count on that. Now let's see if I can find you a spare toothbrush."

* * *

That toothbrush was only the beginning. During the next two weeks, they met whenever their schedules allowed it. Those dates followed pretty much the same pattern, they would cook together, usually with Harry suggesting the dish and Padma refining it with various herbs and spices, many of which he had not even heard of. Which was followed by various ways to express their togetherness.

After the first of many such evenings, Harry thought that it was best if he slipped away in the dead of the night. He had no experience with such an arrangement but based on Ron's stories, that was considered the good tone for such get-togethers. However, before he could get out of the bed, Padma sleepily mumbled something about staying and pudding, but the firm grip around his midriff made her opinion obvious. So Harry shrugged, laid back down and smiled when she snuggled into him.

They never really talked about their relationship, but it was quickly moving beyond a simple tryst. By the end of the fortnight, Harry had his own set of toiletries at Padma's flat as well as an overnight bag with a few clothes. And there was a shift in their relationship. They were not just friends who would sleep together. As time passed, their touches would become more frequent and longer. They ended up kissing more and more outside the bedroom and the evenings were spent cuddled together on the couch, watching some movie or reading books. During that, Harry realised that Padma basically melted in his hands when he played with her hair and consequently made good use of that knowledge.

One Saturday was spent feeding each other antipasti Harry had prepared beforehand. Kingsley had tried to talk him into a press conference about the current state of the Ministry, but between ravenous reporters or his girlfriend-apparent, it wasn't a contest. It might have been a tired figure of speech, but for both of them, the way to the heart was through the stomach. Harry would prepare meals for the ungodly hours Padma returned while she, in turn, insisted on spoiling him when she had a day off. It was nice to have someone who did that for him, and it felt nice to draw a smile from her whenever she came home. Someone to pamper, to spend time with unrelated to work or the whole mess with Voldemort.

It wasn't that Padma was an exceptional cook, most of her dishes were fairly simple and she shied away from more complex recipes, especially for desserts. Her outstanding ability was her willingness to experiment with all imaginable spices, which led to many creations which sounded insane but tasted good anyway. Like meatballs with a sauce containing mustard, cinnamon and dates. Likewise, while Harry could undoubtedly prepare the better Sunday roast, Padma's arsenal was significantly wider. Even after a month, he had not found the method to her insanity. She could throw seemingly random spices and ingredients together, but the resulting meals were phenomenal. Something he had started to pick up with very mixed results.

But what really surprised him was how well they clicked together. Be it while cooking, splitting the chores since he was de-facto living at her flat, or meeting friends, there was a level of synergy between them his previous relationships had not reached after a year. There were no grand gestures, no sappy letters or elaborate schemes which involved half of the DA. Instead, they were just roommates - who couldn't keep their hands off each other - who spent most of their time together - who visited Harry's godson together under the amused gaze of Andromeda Tonks - who would cuddle to keep warm on a rainy day - who spent last Sunday gardening together - well, perhaps they were more than just roommates.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’ed by LifeEquals42.
> 
> This started life as a cooking prompt on the Harry/Fleur Discord (https://discord.gg/VyN5dg2). Basically, Harry had a fling with Padma in the past, she showed him all kinds of culinary wonders and then one day Fleur (living next-door to Harry) smelled the nice food, which led to a series of dinner dates between those two. However, I started thinking about the supposed background relationship more and more and basically wrote this fic in a week because it wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> Before I ever wrote my first fic, I was plotting out various story arcs, and a lot of headcanons for Padma come from this because even before No Longer Alone, I had the idea for a 5th year Harry/Padma fic.


End file.
